I showed up to my parents' house last night perfumed, combed, spit-shined, and dressed in my Sunday finest. Momma and I were going to the funeral home. I walked in and said hello to Daddy, but I was greeted by complete silence. I found him reading the phone book. Daddy is not a reader, so I became immediately suspicious. Momma walked through and explained, "Your father had an appointment with his oral surgeon this morning, but he's had his pain pill, so I'm ready to go." I asked why he was reading the phone book. She said she wasn't sure but that he had been reading it for an hour (Daddy gets a little crazy when medicated). I'm a reader, but phone books aren't exactly my genre. I find that there are too many characters to keep up with. "Well, should we leave him like that?" I asked. To which my mother replied, "Oh, he's fine. Chloe (my 11-year-old niece) will be here with him." So, off we went to the funeral home. I silently wondered during the drive what exactly prepares an 11-year-old to sit with a heavily medicated mute reading the phone book.
Daddy is a social creature. He retired about 6 years ago, and he's having trouble adjusting. The family farms of myself, my brother, and my parents take up about 250 acres, and Daddy grows weary of only seeing us and our animals. I can't really say that I blame him. He used to hang out at Joe's Place (a legendary restaurant in Woodbury) back when the original owner was still alive. There was a dedicated table at Joe's where old men would gather, known as the "Liar's Table" (it was basically the equivalent to a beauty shop for ladies). But, the restaurant has changed hands a few times since Joe's death, and the crowd has changed. I personally never liked eating at Joe's Place. I am obsessive-compulsive, and I have issues with symmetry. Invariably, I would end up sitting in front of the paintings of Elvis and Jesus. The Elvis painting was velvet, and it hung slightly higher than the Jesus painting, and the Jesus painting was always crooked. The paintings haunted me, and I always found myself wanting to take a hammer, nails, and a level to the restaurant . . . so I could never really enjoy my hamburger.
But, Daddy has found other social activities. He plays Rook every other Saturday at the Senior Citizens' Center. He is actually a bit of a card shark . . . they don't play for money, but he has lots of trophies. I have a theory that he looks into the eyes of those little old ladies and somehow hypnotizes them with his sea blue eyes. I won't play with him – he cheats. Besides, I prefer Poker and Scrabble.
He has also taken a liking to a gentleman in Smithville (a neighboring county) named Johnny; they talk about once a month on the phone. The friendship started out by Johnny calling the wrong number. He was trying to reach someone in Smithville (a 536 number), and he constantly called my parents' house (a 563 number) by mistake. Daddy and Johnny will talk on the phone for 30 minutes like a couple of teenage girls (imagine talking to someone dialing a WRONG NUMBER for half an hour!). This year, Daddy and Johnny actually sent each other Christmas cards. I wonder how long it will be before Johnny gets added to the will?
No comments:
Post a Comment